A Union flag nestles casually in the corner of the lord mayor's parlour in Belfast city hall, where Alex Maskey is settling in, the first Sinn Fein councillor ever to take the top civic post. It is a potent signal of just how keen the former boxing champion and republican "hard man" is to keep his political opponents in the ring.

Mr Maskey, who honed his debating skills in the internment huts of Long Kesh prison compound in the early 1970s, insists his term of office will be more about substance than symbols and inclusivity will be a key theme.

But he is well aware of the immense symbolism of his appointment, opposed by unionists but facilitated by votes from the centre-ground Alliance, whose previous refusal to support him denied him the job last year.

He jokes that his bid for mayorship has been almost 20 years in the making, from when he first entered the council chamber in 1983, to the shrill of rape alarms and whistles. Now, the protest is muted, but nonetheless heartfelt.

He has, however, detected a sea change, in the attitudes of others, albeit a subtle undercurrent rather than a tidal wave. "Many unionists have privately wished me well, although it is ironic some cannot be seen to be chatting to me in front of their colleagues," he explained. "But there is a palpable shift since last year, a feeling that this had to happen."

Whatever the reaction, Mr Maskey prefers honesty to insincere politeness. He was delighted at the warm but frank reception at the Presbyterian church's general assembly, where most members were only too eager to share their opinions, positive and negative.

Mr Maskey feels the city council has matured over the years, as has his own party. The 50-year-old docker's son has travelled a long road too, from promising pupil at one of north Belfast's top Catholic grammar schools and star junior boxer, winning 71 out of 75 bouts, to teenage bank robber, before he committed himself to the republican cause.

In another time and place, he would have liked to go to university and study law, but events intervened and he was interned twice, in his late teens and early 20s, the second time for almost three years from 1972 to 1975.

But he accepts it as a period of important personal development and he learned a great deal from the diverse political discussions led by fellow internees such as the Sinn Fein president, Gerry Adams.

His path to politics has been strewn with loyalist attempts on his life - a close friend was shot at his house in 1993, and he still carries the shrapnel from an Ulster Freedom Fighters' shotgun attack in 1987 that cost him part of his kidney and bowel.

But he refuses to take it personally, seeing it instead as rather like boxing, where his opponents will swing at anyone in the opposite corner. "During the peace process and since I've sat in a room with people linked to those trying to kill me, but they were attacking what I stood for rather than the person," he rationalised. "You can't get to grips with the problems unless you're prepared to look at all sides of the equation."

Mr Maskey was elected to the Stormont assembly after the 1998 Good Friday agreement, and Sinn Fein routinely relies on him for pugnacious public defence of the party line, particularly on contentious issues like the arrest of three suspected IRA men in Colombia.

Although Stormont has taken some of Belfast council's power and influence, Mr Maskey argues it has also taken some of the heat out of what was a political bear garden, allowing councillors to concen trate on the important issues for the city and lobby the devolved administration for action.

The Sinn Fein man dons the chain of office at a time of frightening sectarian strife across Belfast's battle-weary interfaces, and his party is under fierce pressure to prove its inclusivity by joining the cross-community policing board and supporting the reformed police service.

But Mr Maskey claims policing is still too flawed for this to happen. He says the street violence is masking and exacerbating other problems, like racism, crime, social alienation and economic deprivation.

He accepts not many people will be queuing up to shake his hand in areas like the staunchly loyalist Shankill Road. But he is determined to reach out to all the people of Belfast.

"Belfast is a city that needs to make peace with itself," he said. "No mayor of a divided city will be welcome everywhere.

"But I have had cross-community contacts in many areas for years, and if it is difficult for loyalists to invite me to go to them, then I will certainly be inviting them to come and see me. If I can do one thing this year, it should be to let people know they can knock on my door, whoever they are, whatever the issue. That would be a major achievement."